This story takes place in the same universe as the other
Deshanya stories. However, it's a romp, containing graphic
descriptions of sexuality (hide the children; this is not for those
under the age of 18, or easily offended American senators) and
not intended to affect any of the characters or plot lines going
on there. If asked about it, both Q and Deshanya will deny that
it ever happened, which of course, it never did. And since no
one else remembers what happened that one very strange day,
nothing must have happened. Right?
Truth or Q? by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)
Lieutenant Elaine Deshanya sat in her quarters, absently folding
little squares of paper into decorative shapes. She was doing it
as a favor for someone who needed them as a demonstration for
a class of children. She didn't mind terribly, as it gave her time
to think about other things, like her next big holodeck project.
She had a very interesting scenario in mind, something
different.
Deshanya folded the pink piece of paper into a swan, which
promptly snapped at her fingers, and began to waddle away.
She picked up the pink swan, holding it carefully on the palm of
her hand. It was still made out of paper, but there was a certain
way about how it held its head, a certain...
The swan jabbed her in the nose, and Deshanya set it down. It
wandered over to the cup of water sitting on the table, flapped
its tissue wings and fluttered up into the cup. For a moment, it
rested there on top of the water, sailing serenely in a circle.
And then it dissolved into a sodden mass of pink paper.
"Bird killer," a voice whispered in her ear.
Deshanya swiveled to find Q standing behind her, dark eyes
glittering.
"Do it again!" Deshanya said, clapping her hands with delight.
Q recoiled indignantly. "I'm not a parlor trick. I'm an
omnipotent superbeing and you should watch your step with
me."
Deshanya looked down at her feet, and back up at him. "If you
say so."
"Of course, I do." He sauntered over to the table, littered with
elaborate little paper constructions which she had been working
on for hours, and swept them aside to sit on the edge of the
table, negligently crushing the delicate paper shapes. "Why are
you wasting your time on these things? Play a little game with
me."
Deshanya looked at the wreck of her hard work with dismay.
"That wasn't very nice."
"In many cultures, nice is a deadly insult."
"Well, consider yourself complimented then." She slipped out
of her own chair, kneeling down on the floor to pick up the
origami that weren't too badly ruined, and putting them out of
his reach on a high shelf that he was unlikely to try to sit on.
He was behind her again, and she could feel his body pressing
seductively against hers, a lazy finger trailing negligently along
the side of her face, down to the nape of her neck. "A game
with me could have many... advantages."
Deshanya turned, looking up at him, facing down that sardonic
smile. "I seriously doubt sex would be one of them."
"Sex? Is that all you mortals ever think about?" Suddenly his
morally indignant expression disappeared and replaced once
again with that mocking, seductive stare. Q held out his hand,
and in a flash of light, an object appeared on his hand.
He held it out to her. "Fine, I accept your challenge. A game
for sexual forfeits. You lose, you will do as I like; I lose, I will
do as you like. The stakes to be this McGuffin."
Deshanya studied the McGuffin carefully. Those were
impressive stakes indeed. However, she didn't believe a word
of what Q was saying. "I don't believe a word of what you're
saying."
"Which word were you having problems with?"
She stomped her foot slightly. "You won't do as I like, and you
certainly aren't going to play for sexual forfeits."
His brows narrowed. "You doubt me?"
In a flash, the room rearranged itself around them, and
Deshanya found herself lying on her own bed, wearing nothing
but a skimpy negligee which she definitely knew wasn't part of
her wardrobe, and Q. Well, she wasn't exactly wearing Q, but
he was leaning over her, wearing a gorgeous set of silk
pajamas, and a dangerous expression in his eyes.
Deshanya stared up wide-eyed at him, a giggle bubbling
irrepressibly to her lips. "Well, I suppose it *could* be fun."
And then, with another flash of light, they were fully clothed
again, seated across from each other, the McGuffin ensconced
on the table.
Q held out a deck of cards to Deshanya, who took them and cut
them. "So what are we playing?" she asked, putting her elbows
up on the table and hooking her feet on the chair.
"Don't you think that would spoil it?" Q asked silkily, expertly
shuffling and dealing the cards.
Deshanya picked up her hand without looking at it, instead
glancing solemnly at Q. "I suppose you have a point. But then
you might just as well give up now."
"You forget who you're playing with."
"Oh, that's right," Deshanya said with a smile. "You cheat.
How could I ever forget?"
****
Deshanya folded her hand, smiling, a delicious tingle of
anticipation running through her. She hadn't been trying
terribly hard to win. The man, or being currently disguising
himself as a man, did wonderful things for her blood pressure.
She could imagine him doing things to her, feeling his lips on
hers, those long-fingered hands everywhere on her body... the
possibilities were endless. And she'd just lost a forfeit to him.
"All right, Q, you won," she said, leaning forward, putting
herself closer in reach of that tantalizing entity. "What do you
want me to do?"
"Seduce Picard."
Deshanya sat back, looking askance at Q. "That's impossible.
*And* you're going to get me fired."
Q flicked his fingers disdainfully at her. "You owe me a
forfeit."
She set her chin stubbornly. "There better not be any
consequences as a result of this."
"Coward."
"Takes one to know one."
Q sighed heavily. "Fine. No lasting consequences. Are you
happy?"
She smiled brightly at him. "Just chipper."
Deshanya strolled out of the room, on her way to find the
captain. A quick word with the computer, and she found that
he was in his quarters, undoubtably not ready for this at all.
She wasn't sure she was ready for it either. She wiped her
hands on her trousers. Sparring with Q was one thing; she
enjoyed that, found it intellectually stimulating, as well as in
other ways. But the captain intimidated her. Not that that was
going to stop her. No lasting consequences, eh? This could be
fun.
She stopped at the captain's door and announced her presence.
"Come."
The utter appropriateness of that command, issued in that crisp
voice, made Deshanya shiver with anticipation. This was
definitely going to be fun.
She stepped inside, finding the captain seated in a chair,
reading, hot tea at his elbow, wearing a robe that left him half-
naked to the waist.
"Lieutenant!" Picard said with some surprise, rising to greet
her. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"To the determined efforts of a omnipotent being to get the two
of us together," Deshanya said, smiling.
"Q? On board my ship?" Picard set his book down, about to
call for some unknown assistance, silly really, since there was
nothing he could do against Q.
Deshanya insinuated herself between him and the table, his bare
chest pressing up against her, body molded against his. She put
her hand over his mouth.
Picard stilled in surprise.
"Don't be hasty, captain. There's nothing you or I can do.
We've been dropped into this situation. You know opposing Q
is futile."
She dropped her hand, resisting the impulse to touch all that
exposed flesh.
"There's a good deal I can do, Lieutenant. I don't just give into
terrorists."
Mentally, she shrugged. That was the limit of her arguments.
Outwardly, she grinned impishly. "Who said anything about
giving into *Q*?"
She put her hands on his chest, and he stiffened, his posture
automatically rejecting her.
Picard looked up and out at something unseen. "Q! Q? Do
you hear me? This is nothing more than rape!"
Deshanya pulled back from him, then, really looking at him.
"It is not. This is supposed to be fun."
Q appeared next to her, looking down over her shoulder.
"You'll never get him into bed, my dear. You're just not his
type." Q stared rakishly at Picard. "I believe I am. Why, he's
more turned on now that I'm in the room than you were ever
able to accomplish."
Picard flushed, the color change very apparent with his partial
nudity. "Q!" He jerked the robe closed and turned away from
them.
"You see?" Q said. "You can't do it, my dear. And he does
want me, you know. If you'd like, I could change the
conditions of your forfeit. Give him what he *really* wants."
Behind Picard's back, Deshanya stuck her tongue out at Q.
Picard turned on Q, unable to deny the truth of what Q said,
knowing that Q could just make it worse by actually exposing
some of the dark fantasies that he had had about the mocking
entity. The ones where Q had made some demands on Picard
after Picard had given into him after the incident with the Borg
for the sake of his crew's lives. Some very interesting
demands. Picard flushed again. He was just very glad Q
wasn't holding a riding crop.
"Q! Leave me alone!"
Q stepped up to him, one hand just barely skimming Picard's
jawline, as he whispered in his ear, "That's not what you really
want, Jean Luc."
Picard cast desperately at any hope of getting out of this
situation. "You said something about a forfeit. About
conditions. Doesn't this violate that?"
Q shrugged slightly, and Picard noticed suddenly that his
clothing had changed. Q was wearing a riding master's outfit,
high boots, snug jacket and all. Picard swallowed, fighting
down a surge of fear mixed with an entirely unwelcome desire.
"Unimportant, Jean Luc. You turned her down. I believe that
leaves the field wide open."
Q smiled on the last phrase, giving Picard a very good idea of
exactly which fantasies Q had been rummaging through. With
an effort, he tore his eyes off Q, and looked at Deshanya, who
was watching them with apparent interest.
"I never actually turned her down. I... was in the process of
making a decision."
"Oh, come now, Jean Luc. Don't tell me you're going to back
down *now*. Not when you're so close to actually fulfilling all
those sordid little desires you've been storing up for so long."
Something brushed his cheek, and with horror, Picard realized
that it was the tip of a riding crop.
He turned to face Q. "You must honor the original agreement.
I accept the forfeit, with the lieutenant as my designated
debaucher."
Q looked at him. "I suppose you never will learn to explore all
those secret fears of yours." With a piqued shrug, he flicked
the riding crop into nothingness, and Picard and Deshanya's
clothes away. "Very well."
And then he disappeared, leaving a very uncomfortable pair
behind him.
"Well, that was interesting," Deshanya said, looking at the
captain. "I suppose I should go all noble now and refuse to do
this on moral grounds. Of course, Q might come back then."
Picard swallowed hard, unable to control his body, and knowing
that she could undoubtably see his raging erection. "Please,
don't go, Lieutenant."
She stepped up to him, smiling. "You know this won't be
nearly as exciting as it would be if he were here."
"Oh, I'm well aware of that. Rather looking forward to it,
actually."
She giggled. "Oh, goody."
Picard looked down at Deshanya, who was quite attractive in
her own way, although he'd never had any feelings towards her.
Although there had been that one moment, after the costume
party incident, where he had really wanted to pick her up, put
her over his knee at spank her.
The urgency of the feeling in his penis increased at that thought.
A certain very uncaptainlike thought came to him. Before he
could change his mind, he acted on it.
"I have noted a certain laxity in discipline of late, with certain
members of my crew," Picard said, looking down at her, his
face very stern.
Excitement raced through her. Did he mean what she thought
he meant? "Well, you should take corrective action then,
captain."
"Do you think so, Lieutenant? You *have* been one of the
worst offenders, after all."
"Me? I've been perfectly angelic," Deshanya said, making a
token protest.
Picard sat down on the bed, looking at her. "Are you
questioning me, Lieutenant?"
"No, sir."
"Very good. Come here."
She walked over to him, tingling all over, already wet inside,
wanting whatever he was about to do.
"And exactly how do you think I should punish you,
Lieutenant?"
"I wouldn't presume of telling the captain what he should do."
"You should have thought of that before getting me involved in
this," Picard said, a little real anger coming into his eyes.
Deshanya quailed then, and would have backed away from him,
but he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down, over his lap.
One arm anchored her firmly to him, while the other hand
traced its way down to her ass.
She squirmed, and he swatted her firmly on the ass. "Hold
still, Lieutenant."
Deshanya stopped moving, her ass tingling, and let him do
whatever he wanted.
His hand caressed her buttocks, lightly touching them, before
moving between her legs, fingers sliding into the wetness there.
She bucked involuntarily, that feeling far too intense to bear,
and he pulled his hand out, whacking her again.
"Ow!" This time she cried out. Getting spanked wasn't
particularly enjoyable; it was in fact somewhat painful, but there
was something extremely exciting about lying naked across the
captain's lap, entirely exposed and vulnerable to him.
"Did you have something to say to me, Lieutenant?" Picard
asked.
"No, sir."
"Very well then. Since you appear to be incorrigible, you must
be punished."
His hand tickled on her back, stroking her softly. But then that
reassuring touch was removed. "Bad lieutenant," Picard said
firmly, as he swatted her on the rear. "Very bad lieutenant."
Deshanya writhed at the hard smacks on her bottom, her breasts
rubbing into his thighs.
"No consorting with Q," Picard said, punctuating his sentences
with hard swats, "And especially no seducing of the captain.
Do you understand me?"
He turned her to face him. Tears were streaming down her
face, and Deshanya nodded.
"What's that?" Picard asked. "I didn't hear that."
He reached for her ass again, and Deshanya very quickly
answered, "Yes, sir."
"Good. Now why don't you mann your post, Lieutenant?"
Tears still filling her eyes, a delicious sense of humiliation
making her very wet inside, Deshanya quickly slipped off his
lap and down on the floor between his knees, mouth going to
his hard cock.
His hands came down to wind in her hair, as she licked the
erect shaft, lightly teasing him with just a hint of what was to
come.
****
Picard arched his back, hands twisted painfully into Deshanya's
hair as he came in her mouth, the explosion seemingly going on
forever, and the aftershocks even better, as she continued
sucking on his now limpening cock.
She didn't let go of him until he was completely finished.
Picard drew her up to him, holding her on his lap, one hand on
her breast, fingers going to her nipple. "Have you learned your
lesson, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir."
"I don't believe you have, Lieutenant."
Deshanya looked up at him, a little bit of fear on her face. She
trusted the captain, truly she did, but she didn't have any idea
what he was going to do to her. Of course, that was the good
part. Anticipation streamed through her, and she leaned back a
little. "Why don't you make sure I get the point, sir?"
Picard looked down at the naked woman kneeling between his
thighs, already feeling a renewed stirring in his cock despite
having just spent himself in her mouth. God, Beverly never
made him this horny, even when she was wearing the mouse
ears.
"Up on the bed, Lieutenant."
Deshanya started to move to the bed, her body tingling
expectantly. The captain's calm, controlled manner excited her,
even as she would have liked to tie him down and do this to
him, to see that vast control shattered into begging and pleading
for release.
With a flash of light, the room disappeared.
Deshanya abruptly found herself lying on her own bed, still
completely unclothed, her body humming with unsatisfied
desire.
Q was leaning over her, a mocking smile on his face. "How
disgusting."
Deshanya sat up, ignoring her nakedness, utterly outraged.
"How could you? It was just getting good."
Q ran a finger along her bare arm, and she shivered, leaning
into him, body silently begging for his touch.
"You completed the forfeit," he said offhandedly. "I think
you'd be grateful to me for extricating you from such a perilous
situation. Do you *know* what the captain was planning to
*do* to you?"
"No, but I would have liked to find out," Deshanya said,
exasperated. The frustrated desire was rebounding through her
body, making her think impossible thoughts about pulling Q
down on the bed, tearing his clothes off of him and using him as
a six foot something sex toy.
Q looked down at her, the contents of her mind instantly known
to him. "How perfectly vile."
"You seemed willing enough to do vile things to the captain."
Q's eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers. In an instant,
they were both seated back at the table, with the deck of cards
in Deshanya's hands.
With a start, Deshanya realized that not only was she fully
dressed, but every vestige of desire had been wiped from her
body, and her bottom didn't hurt at all. Deshanya smiled at Q,
while shuffling the cards. "Thank you."
He looked disdainfully back at her, declining to answer that or
accept any responsibility for it.
Deshanya divided the deck in half and handed one section to Q.
She had an idea here, one that had come to her while he was
beating her pants off of her at Poker. Or, at least, figuratively.
She could only wish he'd do it literally.
"The game is War. Totally luck, no skill involved. Each of us
throws down a card, the one with the highest card wins, and
gets to keep both cards. We keep playing until someone runs
out of cards. That person loses."
"How boring."
Deshanya smiled sweetly. "Just trying to play a game I can
win."
She laid down her first card, which turned out to be a jack. Q
pulled his off the top of the deck. A two.
Deshanya gathered up the cards. "Why isn't the captain
charging down here to throw you off the ship?"
Q threw down his next card, elegant disgust with this pastime
written in every line of his posture. "He's asleep. Having
pleasant dreams about horseback riding. He won't remember
any of this."
Deshanya turned over her own card. An eight. Which beat Q's
seven. She took both of them, and put them on the bottom of
her deck. "Too bad."
****
Deshanya shuffled the deck. She'd taken every single one of
Q's cards, although it'd taken almost an hour to do it. But
she'd won, and now it was her turn to demand a forfeit from
him.
What to do, what to do. He deserved something really awful
for the trick he'd tried to play on Picard. Q had humiliated the
captain completely without ever laying a hand on him. And
then what the captain had done to her... Deshanya tingled all
over again. She resented Q for stopping that encounter before it
reached its inevitable conclusion. Q needed to be taught a
lesson. But she probably wasn't the right person to do that.
What could she do? Then suddenly, a deliciously evil thought
came to her, and she told Q what his forfeit would be.
"Oh, no. I'm not going to do that."
Deshanya looked brightly up at Q. "You lost. You've got to."
"I didn't lose. I let you win."
"Same thing." Deshanya looked quizzically at him. "You must
have known I was going to decide something like that."
"Reading the future is very tedious. You didn't know what you
wanted until you decided on it. I thought..."
"Thought what?" Deshanya looked at Q, who seemed to almost
be blushing, which was entirely impossible. A trick of the
light, brought on by the wine-colored captain's uniform he was
wearing. What else could he be thinking of? Unless he thought
she was going to ask *him* to go to bed with her... "Ohhh.
Thought *that*."
The origami birds all came to life at once, multicolored wings
fluttering like pages turning in the air. Deshanya swiveled to
look at them, and as she did, Q disappeared in a flash of light.
****
Q trudged along the corridor. "Infuriating woman. What was I
thinking? What *am* I thinking? To agree to not use my
powers for this? To even *do* this? I need a drink."
He stopped at the appropriate door, pressed the signal, and
waited. A gruff voice bade him enter, and Q sent one last
questing thought out for his missing sanity as he entered Worf's
quarters.
****
"You? Are here to have sex with me?" Worf's voice was
incredulous.
"So you think it's a stupid idea, too, and I can go then?"
Worf growled. "I did not say that. I have been looking
forward to this moment for a long time."
"This wasn't my idea, micro-brain."
"Be quiet." Worf studied his prize.
"Very commanding, Worf. You may even make ensign
someday."
Worf growled deep in his throat, and whipped out a length of
black cloth. With a single quick motion, too fast for the eye to
follow, he wrapped it around Q's face, covering his mouth and
tying it on the side with in a complicated slip knot.
Q looked up at Worf, outrage written all over him. "Youmm
gammgmd mm!"
Worf growled at him, showing his teeth. He finally had the
omnipotent entity at his mercy. Every time Q had tormented
him, it had enraged Worf. And for Klingons, rage was very
close to lust. Each time Q had insulted him, Worf had wanted
to leap on him, to tear him limb from limb, to shut him up, to
tie him down and stop that obscene flow of words with his large
Klingon cock.
"Arrgghh!" Worf roared, the lust inside him boiling over
uncontrollably.
Q backed up, and Worf reacted instinctively to his prey's
retreat, reaching for Q and bodily throwing him to the floor.
"Mmmmowwmm!" Q said, startled. He wasn't terribly scared
of anything Worf might do. Nothing could permanently affect
him. He hadn't given up his powers, after all. He had only
promised not to *use* them. But that didn't stop him from
experiencing a certain sense of fear, and humiliation at having
this done to him by *Worf*. Only his dubious sense of honor
kept him going through with this. That and a curiosity to find
out what it was that so intrigued Picard about this experience;
why it was about being subjugated and humiliated that made
Picard go so weak inside at the very thought.
Worf snapped leather cuffs on Q's wrists, pinning Q's arms
over his head. Worf smiled down at Q, teeth bared, a look of
satisfaction on his face. "I will enjoy this."
"Yommm wmmlmd," Q said, unable not to retort, even with a
gag stuffed in his mouth.
Worf pulled a long, sharp dagger out and slit the captain's
uniform Q wore down the center, leaving a small line of blood
down Q's chest. Worf leaned over and licked the blood off,
grimly enjoying this. There weren't many opportunities for him
to really let his hair down on the Enterprise. Deanna could be
so bland when it came to sex. She had strange ideas about
consideration and mutual pleasure. She did not understand a
warrior's needs. But Deanna was not here at the moment.
Worf looked down at his prisoner and growled. Q was still too
covered. Worf ripped the torn clothing off of Q entirely,
leaving him lying there naked. Much better. More vulnerable.
Worf ripped the gag off Q, then quickly and efficiently stripped
his own clothes off.
"Such a brute you are, Worf. You may even achieve sentience.
In a few million years."
Worf shoved his cock into Q's mouth, relishing the feel of
stopping the annoying stream of words with his lustful Klingon
flesh. He pounded the waiting mouth unmercifully, sinking
deeply in with each stroke.
With a roar, he felt the first explosion coming, and he thrust in
deeply with no consideration for what tonsils he might be
reaming, the feel of teeth biting into him only increasing the
force of his final explosion.
He pulled out, and Q sat up, still as cocky as always. "What a
disgusting experience. Now that you're done, I'll be on my
way."
"Not so fast." Worf planted a hand in the center of his chest.
"I am not finished."
Q paled.
Worf shoved Q down onto his stomach, exposing his buttocks to
the Klingon, who grimaced with anticipation. "You will know
what it is to be had by a warrior!"
"Like being stuck in a convention of Ferengi arms dealers for
eternity, only more boring?" Q replied sarcastically.
Worf roared his displeasure at that response, and shoved his
way into Q's ass, driving in as hard and deep as he could.
Q bit his lip, tears coming to his eyes at the pain. He had
chosen to feel the human reactions in an attempt to better
understand what it was that humans got out of this experience.
An obvious mistake. With a single thought, he banished the
pain.
Worf grunted as he thrust wetly into Q, fingers digging into Q's
buttocks, hard enough that anyone else would have had bruises
forming immediately.
Pain pushed aside, Q had time to concentrate on the indignity of
his current position. He was letting himself be fucked by a
Klingon. He was surprised a tourist delegation from the Q
Continuum hadn't come through, selling tickets and scarfing
down popcorn.
A surge of angry humiliation poured through Q. He had no
sexual feelings in the human sense, but the Q equivalent to sex
was very like this, an elaborate game of domination, ending in
the complete absorption of the other being, combining them into
one different being for the rest of time. Naturally, it was
something you didn't do very often. Q had never gone all the
way. But the Q were always trying to see how far they could
get, how much of the other they could overwhelm, and some
even delighted in seeing how much they could give up without
being subsumed. Q thought of the latter class of Q as perverts.
Of course, in human form, there was no danger of being
absorbed. He could experience the forbidden pleasure of
submission without any fear of losing himself. Not that Q was
enjoying this.
It was less humiliating for Q to grovel to Worf like this, despite
his animosity for the Klingon. As Worf pounded a thick, deep
hole in his ass, Q thought about Picard doing this to him,
imagining Picard walking in, those penetrating eyes seeing him
like this, that cool voice asking what he was doing like this,
seeing his, Q's, abasement.
The scene took silent form in his mind.
"Q?" Picard asked incredulously, stopping in the doorway.
"Mr. Worf, stop that at once!"
"Sorry, Captain," Worf growled, picking himself up.
"Report to the brig."
"Yes, sir."
As Worf left the room, Q rolled over, exposing himself to
Picard. In his imagination, he had fallen prey to that chief
weakness of human males, a huge erection springing up, unable
to be hidden.
Q met the captain's cool eyes, ashamed at being seen like this,
so lowly and out of costume. "I can explain everything, Jean
Luc."
"I'm sure you can, Q," Picard said sternly. And then, in the
fantasy, he was kneeling next to Q. "Why, Q? Why did you
come to him, and not to *me*?"
With a tremendous rush of shame, Q was snapped back to the
reality of what was actually happening, feeling himself coming,
in an entirely too human reaction. He had forgotten to turn off
the plumbing. The feeling was revolting, disgusting, and darkly
pleasurable, in a debauched, human way.
Q laid there limply as the Klingon satisfied himself and rolled
off, unhooking Q from the cuffs.
Q rested there for a moment, the total humiliation of what had
just happened crushing him. For a brief second, he imagined
Jean Luc kneeling next to him, one hand placed on his shoulder
in a gesture of comfort.
Instantly, Q banished the thought. His deal with Worf was
done. He no longer needed to stay for any reason. What Q
wanted now was revenge.
Q closed his eyes, and disappeared, reappearing in Deshanya's
quarters, dressed in an admiral's uniform.
Deshanya looked up from the bed, where she was seated,
flipping the cards one by one into a silk top hat at the foot of
the bed.
"Q! How'd it go?"
Q was visibly pissed, positively radiating negative energy. "The
game is over."
Deshanya bounced up off the bed, letting the rest of the cards
spill off her lap onto the floor. "No, c'mon, you can't give up
so soon. It's just getting interesting."
"*Interesting*?" Q asked dangerously. "Do you want to find
out what interesting is?"
Without letting her reply, the room vanished from around them.
****
She wasn't human anymore, was simply a glowing form of
energy. She'd make a great star for the top of a Christmas tree,
if the whole tree didn't burn down as a result.
Deshanya sensed Q's presence, another energy form, much
more powerful than her own, the light and heat of him
overwhelming her altered senses.
He touched her, a delicate sleek probing, letting her know how
much power he had, and how easily he could use it to destroy
her.
Then without warning, he was attacking, tearing at her
substance, bands of force passing through her, dominating her
completely, his own pattern seeking to impose itself over hers.
She chose the only route of resistance there was, melting into
him, each level of her energy seeking its equal in him,
absorbing the power he was radiating and becoming more as a
result.
Q reacted with startlement, fighting back to reestablish his
dominance, but it was too late. She had gotten too close to him,
through his own arrogant presumption that there was nothing
she could do to hurt him.
Her essence slid into his own, finding the chinks in his armor
that his attack had left undefended, her very ignorance of the
danger of opening herself to him the greatest threat of all. She
was inside him, their energies combining and finding a new
balance, something that was neither one or the other, but both of
them.
Deshanya's emotions were fueling Q's own, her feelings
wrapping around him, drawing him into that consummation he
absolutely must resist.
She *knew* him now, on many levels, she *was* him. As he
was her. For a brief moment, Q allowed himself this exotic
pleasure, the blend of both energies sparking an increasingly
dangerous recombination. He'd never gone this far with
anyone, much less a *human*.
They were too close to the danger of subsumption. There was
nothing to do but get the hell out of there, and back to a
physical body he *could* control.
****
And then he was plunging into her, hot and heavy, and she
could feel him touching her everywhere. They were back in
physical form, Deshanya realized, barely cognizant. She had
been somewhere else, and it had been both more and less than
this.
She had the feeling of being held close in a warm, comforting
embrace, while at the same time, she was being expertly fucked.
They were both naked, and even as she felt his hands on her
shoulders, his mouth covering hers, tongue flicking at her lips,
she could also feel lips tugging at her nipples, sharp teeth
threatening to bite.
Deshanya twisted, trying to evade that tormenting caress, while
also trying to get her groin in closer contact with him. Q was
teasing her, giving her almost enough stimulus to bring her to
orgasm, but not quite enough. Desire thrummed in her ears,
and she bucked upwards, trying to get more of him.
Hands grabbed roughly at her hips, holding her still for the
devastatingly pleasurable intrusion into her body. As he sunk
more deeply into her, she sighed, but it still wasn't enough.
Deshanya opened her eyes to look at him, but she was sensually
disoriented and her mind refused to make sense of what she
saw, dizzying her instead. That teasing tongue dove inside her
mouth, and she clung tightly to the man or god or whatever he
was, surrendering herself to him.
And then she finally had pressure where she most needed it, a
warm tongue impossibly licking at her clitoris, even as he
continued to drive relentlessly into her. It flicked the tiny bud
back and forth, and she cried out, needing far more than that.
She couldn't stand this teasing anymore. She felt teeth close
around her nipple, and the tiny jolt of pain sent ripples of
aching desire through her.
And then, more frighteningly, Q was inside her head with her,
all light and fire, a silky voice moving in her head like fingers
trailing lazily down the edge of her spine. "You don't seem to
like this. You want *more* out of me, you impertinent mortal.
But how would you like it if I *stopped*?"
Deshanya found she couldn't be scared, couldn't be anything but
teetering on the edge of orgasm, as every sensation her body
was experiencing was heightened by that mocking voice.
She gripped his arms tightly, stiffening and crying out as the
tension inside increased to a fever pitch, and she was thrown
over some unseen precipice into a sea of flame and ice. She
couldn't stand it, couldn't stop it. He was there with her,
bearing her up in his arms, carrying her up out of that endless
ocean of surrender.
Then, with a rush, she was back in her own body, even as he
released himself within her, a warm rush of fluid spent inside
her. He collapsed on her, a sweaty welcome weight.
Q raised his head, and looked at her.
Deshanya couldn't even begin to describe what she saw in his
eyes. Fear? Gratitude? Humiliation? Scorn?
"None of this ever happened," Q said, as her room reformed
around her. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, completely
clothed, his long-fingered hands on the sheet, tucking it gently
around her shoulders.
Deshanya looked down at herself. She was in her own bed,
under her own covers, and wearing a pink nightgown she'd
never seen before. Apparently Q didn't care much for her taste
in clothes.
"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" she asked
irrepressibly.
Q quirked his eyebrows, staring repressively down at her, but
then leaned over her, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "Good
night."
****
In the morning, Deshanya overslept, waking only when her need
to stalk and hunt the wild chocolate chip muffin became too
overwhelming.
She opened her eyes, stretching lazily, feeling very relaxed all
over. Something had happened last night, something very
important, although she couldn't remember quite what.
As she sat up, the McGuffin on the table caught her eye. She
stared at it, trying to figure out what it was and where it had
come from. As she looked at it, Deshanya could swear she saw
it wink at her.
-the end-